Many years ago, a friend of mine told me  a story about his parents going to the same department store to visit Santa at the exact day and time when they were children. He knew this from a picture taken of both of them at the same store on a particular December day.

"They didn't even know each other then," he told me. "They passed each other in line, probably even cried on Santa's lap right after the other.  Something brought them there that day and something brought them together again."

Because of that, he was convinced that people have passed the person they were meant to be with at some point in their lives. That story, as true or false as it may sound, has always stayed with me. Through all my moves, all my attempts at dating - when, in fact that was something I did - I would wonder if what my friend said pertained to me. The day I met John, when he told me that his friend Jimmy James instructed him to go to Palm Springs, things started to churn again in my head.

My mom adored Jimmy James as Marilyn Monroe. She first saw him on The Phil Donahue Show and after she told me about him, I was just as enamored. My mother couldn't get enough of The Boy who was Marilyn whenever she knew he was appearing on a talk show. Years later, when I was in Provincetown, I attended one of Jimmy's shows at the Post Office Cafe. I was amazed at his talent and back then, I didn't have the courage to go up to him and tell him how much my mom and I loved him.  Years later, when I was in LA, Jimmy debuted his single "Who Wants to be Your Lover," at a release party at the Revolver bar in West Hollywood. I was among the fans there that night for the video premiere and free CD giveaway.

Now, here I was - many years later - talking to Jimmy's best friend in Palm Springs. Then, over that infamous Tito and soda (no lime) he tells me that he was Jimmy's barker in P-town one summer, hustling on Commercial street to get people to attend Jimmy's show. Was it  one of the summers that I was there? I couldn't get the dates to agree in my head, but I found it too coincidental.  Months later,  when John  introduced me to Jimmy on one of my visits to San Antonio, I tried my hardest to not fan-boy out in front of him. Here I was in Jimmy James' living room, and it were as if my mother were with me. I wanted to hug him, but all I could manage was to tell him that my mom adored him.

"I love your music,"  I said, or something, no doubt, equally trite.

As I've come to experience, Jimmy often talks about John during his shows. Sometimes the comments are more colorful than others, and without a doubt, John enjoys the spotlight that gets briefly shined on him.  Even though they've never met John, fans of Jimmy know him through the shows. In fact, recently at San Antonio pride, one fan introduced himself to John, and told him how exciting it was to meet him in person. He even knew he was getting married and asked where I was. It got me thinking -  did I ever hear Jimmy talk about his best friend when I attended one of his shows? I can't really say for sure.

Perhaps all this reflection comes from this morning, when one of Jimmy's songs came on my Spotify playlist and it being July - the month I lost my mother. I can't help but think back on those weeks and how I watched her fade. I knew that the end was coming, that the moments we spent together would be our last, and I fought to make every day as enjoyable as I could with her. During her lucid moments, we would reminisce about our trips to Europe and the memories we had accumulated over so many other adventures. Today, as Who Wants to be Your Lover played over my car's stereo, I laughed at how thrilled my mom would have been knowing that I was dating (and engaged) to someone who knew Jimmy James, and all that sadness of those weeks in the hospital were pushed away.

Yet, as much as I would have wanted my mom to meet John and Jimmy, I know that that wasn't the plan. It wasn't the path that was meant to open up to me until the fog cleared and life became clear again. As much as I like to think that I started this new chapter of my life because I messaged John, something deep inside tells me that those paths crossed long ago. We may not have been waiting for Santa Claus, but the gift my mom and Jimmy James gave us was something that the Jolly old man himself could never fit into his sack of toys. Or, now that I think back on it, after I saw John emerge from his Uber, maybe he could have?